


A Dance of Dragons and Angels

by Bright_Life_Lights



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angels, Animagus, Blue Hair, Dragons, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Magical Creatures, Post-War, Reading, if you like angst then this is not the place for you, like seriously, pure fluff, ripped jeans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 17:23:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Life_Lights/pseuds/Bright_Life_Lights
Summary: Things at Hogwarts are never normal, Harry knew that, not even now that Voldemort was gone.Not when there is a dragon flying around the grounds, a war to get over and a Draco Malfoy that, bloody hell, looks like he stepped out of Harry's dreams.No, with several secrets to hide from the press and a crush rapidly spiraling out of control, Harry knows he's in for a year that's going to be all but calm.(*Based on the tumblr rant that has been going on about Draco with sky blue hair, ripped skinny jeans and flower tattoos, mixed with a couple of tropes of my own*)





	A Dance of Dragons and Angels

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this took a year to write the first 3K and 72 hours to write the next 11K or so. Might extend it still later on, work out some scenes a bit more, but for now, I'm happy with it.
> 
> Warning: this is incredibly easy and fluffy and there is like, 0 conflict. But sometimes we need one of those fics to enjoy too, right? Also, apologies for the massive foreshadowing in this fic, I literally tossed it in wherever I could...
> 
> Thank you to some very lovely instagram users for spurring me on to finish this. I don't know your AO3 names, but you know who you are!

"Bloody madness," Ron whispered, watching the moving mass of students that milled around the Hogwarts platform.

It seemed even busier than usual - which honestly wasn’t even that strange considering the school had not seven but eight years this time around - but maybe it was just Harry’s interpretation. There obviously weren't as much students as there could have been. The price of lives that the war has costed was looming over them all as a painful memory.

Harry grinned lightly at his best friends, putting his hands away in the pockets of his jeans. A bonus of being an eighth year’s was that they were allowed to wear normal Muggle clothing if they liked and he was terribly grateful for it. He'd be willing to wear just about anything instead of those dreadful long school robes with no easy accessible and supporting pockets.

"You're telling me." The comment was paired with a slightly raised eyebrow. He'd thought that, once the war was over and Voldemort was dead, he'd finally be able to get some rest and quiet, but now his life was busier than ever, everyone vying for his attention in one way or another. In the past months he had ended up running from adoring fans more times than he could count on his hands.

It was insane, the amount of people that wanted him to sign something or have him say something or wanted him to support their cause, just because of who he was and what he’d done. And then there was the Ministry of Magic, which was sending him letters and people and gifts all the time, just to get him to work for them. At first, they had wanted him to become Minister of Magic and when he had declined - because bloody hell, he was 18 for Merlin's sake - they had wanted him to join the Aurors. He could even be Head Auror if he wanted to. 

As if that even was a normal, rational thing to do when you were still dealing with everything that happened just months ago and hadn't even finished school. No thank you.

No one truly seemed to understand that maybe, just maybe, after spending the first eleven years of his life being tormented by the Dursleys and the next seven fighting against the most powerful and evil wizard of all times, he just wanted some rest and a normal life now. Well, not no one, but merely just the majority of the Wizarding World. 

Because saying that no one understood was a little harsh. Hermione and Ron did, Ginny too. Which probably was the reason she wasn't too upset when he had told her he didn't want to pick up their relationship where they had left it off because he needed some space to find out who he was without that pressure of the entire world on his shoulders.

Well, that, and the fact that he had realised he was gay.

"Come on, boys," Hermione said with a smile. "Let's catch a carriage before they all leave." To everyone's surprise, Hermione was the one that had relaxed most after the war. She hadn't changed, not at all, but she'd gotten calmer about stressful situations and had even left the occasional condescending tone behind her. 

It was a miracle.

They hurried to a carriage, Harry ducking his head down in an attempt not to be seen. It was of no use of course, everyone had had their eyes on him from the second he'd exited the train, and they all watched him as he nearly ran to a carriage, whispering softly among themselves. They were nearly there when a loud voice suddenly called, "Hey, Harry!"

He braced himself for another round of awe and autographs, but luckily, it was only Neville, walking towards them with a bright smile. 

Looking at how they had been in first year, Neville was the one who had changed the most, and in the best way possible too. If anything, he'd gone from total nerd and idiot to a brave, heroic and, Harry had to admit, quite a handsome lad. He still was Neville, of course, forgetful and awkward, but a lot of girls were whispering about him with giggles and red cheeks. Not that Neville ever noticed.

Harry smiled. "Hey Nev. Want to join us? You know there's always a place for you here."

But Neville shook his head, as Harry had expected, because of course he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to join Luna in a carriage. "Nah, mate, just wanted to tell you that I overheard Romilda Vane and some other girls saying that they were going to try the Love Potion trick on you again. You'd think they'd have grown up by now, but clearly, they haven't."

Harry rolled his eyes instantly.  _ Not again, sweet Merlin. _ "Oh, well, it's not like it's going to work anyway." The only way that a Love Potion would work right against a person's sexuality was when it was administered purely. Any dilutions with anything like water or chocolate, and the victim would only experience a slightly enhanced attraction. And seeing as Harry would never actually drink something that was given to him by Romilda Vane - or possibly any other girl except for Hermione, Ginny and Luna - he actually considered himself quite safe.

"I'm just saying, watch out a little, alright?" Neville shrugged. He was one of the fewer people that knew of Harry’s sexuality, but he still liked to worry. He probably had earned the right to fuss about him, because they both knew that without Neville, Harry would never have been able to kill Voldemort.

The other boy smiled gratefully. "I will, thanks, Nev." He cast a look over his shoulder. "Now you better hurry to your ride, or it'll leave you without Luna and with us."

The taller boy laughed softly, nodding and mimicking him with a teasing voice, "I will, thanks Harry." Harry winked at him as he had started walking backwards, pushing through the crowd of people. Neville waved in return, then turned and ran to his carriage.

Once his friend was gone, Harry got himself seated in the carriage, opposite of Ron and Hermione, who were sitting next to each other, holding hands and softly talking to each other. He turned to watch the milling crowd as they continued to be all lovey dovey, not wanting to disturb them but not feeling like watching them either. 

It wasn't that he disapproved of their relationship, not at all. He loved that they finally sorted out what was between them and supported them all the way, but seeing them being so... together all the time reminded him of the long way he still had to go if he ever truly wanted to be with someone. He could not even imagine the hell that coming out would be, seeing as not just his friends, but the whole fucking Wizarding World by now cared about his romantic endeavours. And it would even be worse for the boy he was with, everyone watching every of his moves, checking if he was a 'right' person for their 'Saviour'. He already pitied the poor sod.

His eyes caught a flash of blue in another carriage outside and he frowned, realising it was bright blue hair that was moving messily in the wind. He couldn't remember anyone of his former years with blue hair, because Merlin, he would have noticed that electric blue colour in a crowd full of people, but before he could see the person's face and figure out who it was, the carriage had moved on and left him with furrowed brow.

"What are you looking at, mate? Not another incarnation of Voldemort, I hope?" Ron's voice broke through his reverie. He was definitely joking, they all knew that Voldemort was really dead this time around, but Harry also knew each and every one of them secretly was a little afraid that somehow, someway, he'd survived once again. 

"No." Harry shook his head resolutely, the thoughts of blue hair disappearing from his brain. "It was nothing." 

***

"I don't get it," Hermione groaned, looking ragged and tired. After the war, she had spent all her time restoring her parents’ memories and Harry could see it had taken its toll on her. "Why drag us here first before we can go to our rooms?" 

After the welcome dinner, McGonagall had told all the Gryffindor eighth years to follow her to the, what she called, most important room of the year. The new Transfiguration classroom.

"Maybe it has to do something with the Re-sorting thing," Harry quipped, remembering the letter he'd gotten a little over a month ago. Because of the war and the things it had put people through, it was understandable that it had changed something in the mind of some individuals and changed who they felt like they belonged to. Therefore, the eighth years had gotten the chance to be 'Re-sorted' into another house if they felt like they needed to. So for instance, say that a Slytherin had been scared so badly that he felt like ambition meant nothing anymore and that the Wizarding World should, above all, be about being kind to each other, they might be Re-sorted into Huffelpuf. As long as the Sorting Hat deemed that choice to be rightful, of course.

"I don't see why that whole Re-sorting thing should be necessary." Ron shrugged, looking fairly indifferent. "I mean, a war doesn't change people  _ that bad, _ right?"

"Just because you haven't changed by the war doesn't mean other people haven't, Ronald," Hermione scolded her boyfriend lightly. "And just because of the fact that us three got sorted into the right house doesn't mean that other people also feel at home in the house that they used to belong to. People do change, you know?" 

They followed the other Gryffindors through a thick door with a roaring lion on it. In the back row, there were four seats available next to each other and they took them, Harry sitting on the left with Hermione and Ron in het middle and Neville sliding into the last chair. Well aware of all the eyes on them and that everyone kept glancing over their shoulders to see him, Harry scanned the room to see who was and wasn't there. He started out on the left and turned slightly to see the rest of the room, then stopped when his eyes came upon a certain sight. 

In the right back corner, and Harry really didn't know how he hadn't seen him yet, was the blue haired boy. He was sitting there in the back of the class, hair as bright and blue as the summer sky, short locks falling in front of his face, which was turned down towards the book in his lap. There was this air of mystery around him, and he didn’t quite seem to notice the curious glances he was receiving from the people around him. 

He had to be new, as no one seemed to know who he was and no one was talking to him.

From where he was sitting, Harry couldn't quite see the features of his face, just his slender eyebrows that creased slightly when he turned a page. His legs were long and elegantly stretched out in front of him, black jeans ripped at his knees, shoulders hunched slightly. From what he  _ could  _ see, he was definitely Harry's type. Relaxed, eccentric, intelligent. The book that he was holding in his lap with slender hands was a Muggle one, judging on the size and the thickness of the paper and he wondered what it was the boy was reading.

Before Harry could analyse the new guy any more, McGonagall coughed and everyone turned to face her. After the war, she'd, obviously, become Headmistress, but continued to be head of Gryffindor house and fulfilled her tasks as such. 

She smiled lightly. "Welcome back, you all. I am glad that you have decided to finish your school with an eighth year here, even after the unfortunate events last May. I want to, however, immediately address one matter," she said, sharply looking at one of the students that had looked over her shoulder to glance at Harry. "Mister Potter might have won the war for us, but for the time that he is here, he is a student, not a hero, and as such, not paying attention because you admire him too much will get you into problems no matter what he's done." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Professor McGonagall might be strict, but she was always exactly spot on with what was necessary and he was glad not to be treated differently by her at least.

"Furthermore, you will receive your own eighth year's common room, with sleeping quarters divided over the houses. I trust you all to make the Re-sorted students feel welcome in your house and in class. You will have some classes with the seventh years and some on your own. Now if I read out your name, please state that you're present." Simple, but effective, to the point and blunt, which was so typically McGonagall. Harry didn't know what else he'd expected of her.

He slowly zoned out, knowing that she was reading it out alphabetically and that his name would only come up halfway through. Who would he room with? He knew that Ron and Hermione would want to go together, even though they wouldn't say it out loud. They hadn't really gotten time nor place to spend a moment together for the past two months and he could feel they wanted too have their own space together, he realised that now, even as gross as it was to think about his two best friends having sex. 

Suddenly, McGonagall's voice pierced through his daydreaming, harshly pulling him back to reality.

"Draco Malfoy."

_ What?  _ Why on earth would Draco Malfoy be in the Gryffindor group? He was a Slytherin, right? Unless…

Unless he had been Re-Sorted.

But that couldn’t be right. In all those years they'd spend fighting, Harry knew one thing and that was that Malfoy wouldn't even think about stepping on foot into a Gryffindor classroom. He would rather die than be Sorted into any other house but Slytherin. But, to everyone's surprise, in the back of the classroom, a blue-haired head rose and a slender hand was raised. "Present, Professor."

Harry couldn't help but stare at him, because yes, that was definitely Malfoy. He would remember those grey eyes everywhere - the same ones he'd stared into viciously an infinite times - the delicate bone structure of his face. What he didn't remember about him however, was the large flowering vine tattoo that showed on his right arm when he rose it, the Muggle jeans and the oversized grey sweater that actually looked really good on him and the fucking blue hair. 

Yes, it was Malfoy no doubt. A Malfoy that looked like a hot Muggle and got Re-sorted into Gryffindor apparently. 

In the meanwhile, McGonagall had gone on with reading the list, but Harry was so out of it that he could barely answer 'yes' to his own name, the word coming out in a mumble that was at least five seconds late. He kept his eyes trained on Malfoy, who'd gone back to reading the book in his lap, clearly not wanting to meet the gazes of his new classmates. Before he could do or say or make up his mind about anything, McGonagall put down her scroll and clapped her hands loudly, the sound echoing off the walls.

“That was it. All that is left of me now is wishing you good luck in the coming year. Off you go.”

***

It was two weeks later that the dragon started flying around the school. 

They were at the Quidditch pitch, playing a friendly game among eighth years when something in the sky moved in front of the sun, darkening the field for a moment. They all looked up in unison, peering at the slowly flapping creature above them.

Harry first thought that it was a hippogriff, or a large bird, but as the animal zoomed over, he could see clearly that it was actually a small, slim dragon. It was dark blue, the kind of midnight colour that seemed black unless the sun was directly shining on it, and had wide, elegant wings. He had never seen a fully grown dragon that only seemed like ten foot long, but here it was, casually flying over the pitch.

Hermoine was the first to make a sound, hands flying to cover up her mouth as the beast passed over her. She rose to her feet on the bleachers, skipping two steps to hurriedly get down as Ron flew towards her in an attempt to protect her.

It seemed unnecessary though, because the creature didn’t seem to have any malicious intent. In fact, it seemed like it was actually enjoying itself, floating up and down the streams of the wind, and it looked like the animal was completely unaware of the players on the pitch beneath it.

They gathered up the game nonetheless, hurrying off the field with their brooms in their hands. As they left, Harry could have sworn he saw the dragon tilt its head at their retreating figures with a sad look in its eyes, but then the dragon looked away, flying off with quick strokes of its wings.

It was the talk of the school, the flying dragon that couldn’t possibly be a dragon. Hogwarts’ wards didn’t allow dragons or any other dangerous magical creatures in, and according to every bit and scrap of research they could find, there was no such thing as a dark blue dragon that was small enough to fit into a broomshed. 

Most students didn’t quite believe it.

But then the next week, the dragon appeared again, zooming around the astronomy tower in full view of all the third years practicing floating charms on the grass with Professor Flitwick and people lounging by the Great Lake. The creature, once again, didn’t seem to notice - or care about - all the students below him as it speeded up and made loopings in the air, but once it looked down and saw all the eyes on him, it jerked and disappeared behind the castle.

The creature seemed… shy almost. Like it was afraid to be seen or hunted or chased away. Like it wasn’t used to have people see him. Harry wondered how it even got on the property in the first place. Initially, they had thought Hagrid had gotten himself another dragon egg, but the friendly giant was just as fascinated by the sudden appearance of the creature as they all were.

The other professors weren’t all too happy with the presence of the dragon. Not only had it, inexplicably gotten through the wards, but if it truly was a real dragon, the beast could pose a serious threat. But so far, the creature hadn’t attacked anyone, hadn’t even gotten close enough to a student to attack them, and so the mystery remained.

Because it seemed friendly enough, they had just sent out Hagrid to find where it came from and didn’t hunt it down, to which, in return, the dragon came out more, often flying around the towers and Quidditch pitch around the last hours of the afternoon. 

After that first rush of curiousness, Harry’s interest in the dragon quickly died out. He’d had enough excitement in the past years, and he figured that, if he continued to be excited about and involved with the dragon, people would be quicker with coming to him if something went wrong, and he didn’t want that. 

What he was excited about was Draco Malfoy.

He refused to admit that it was because he was attracted to the, now blue haired, boy. Everything about Malfoy intrigued him, from his hair to his tattoos to his Muggle clothes. Harry wondered what had happened in the past months that had caused for such a sudden and drastic change.

But Malfoy mostly kept to himself. He didn’t swagger around the hallways anymore, didn’t make fun of lower years' hair and fashion choices, and was usually found buried with his nose in a book. It was like he was a completely different person, though Harry sometimes caught a glimpse of the sarcastic sharpness on Malfoy’s face when he thought no one was looking. 

He got his shot by chance a couple of weeks after the first dragon appearance. 

Romilda Vane was many things, from a fan to a obsessive woman, but mostly she was one hell of a persistent witch, and she never gave up. Which was why Harry ended up hiding in the library, running away from Vane and the lipstick that he  _ knew _ he had seen in George’s shop, which was meant to cause a mild obsession on the one that was kissed with it. 

He leant against a bookshelf, panting lightly. This was exactly why he didn’t like women, they could get  _ so crazy.  _ And no, he knew that wasn’t fair to Ginny and Hermoine and Luna and quite some other girls, but it also didn’t help that he got chased by a whole band of women from time to time. Men generally just waited, excitedly shaking him hand when it was their turn. His arm would feel numb after a while, but it was better than being kissed all over and hugged to death.

Wiping the sweat of his forehead, he straightened up, ready to try and sneak out, when his eyes fell on a familiar mop of blue hair. Without quite thinking about it, he walked over to the bench by the window Malfoy was sitting on, a book on his lap.

“Hi.”

Malfoy looked up in surprise, grey eyes growing colder when he saw who it was. “Potter.” When Harry didn’t reply, just awkwardly shuffled around with his hands in his pockets, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I assume you have a reason for standing there?”

“Right.” Harry scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “I, uhm, wanted to ask how you were doing, you know, back at school?”

Visibly rolling his eyes, Malfoy dismissed him by looking back at his book. “Since when do you care, Potter?”

Not letting himself be disregarded that easily, Harry settled himself on the bench in the sunlight next to him. “Since you saved my life.”

“I did no such thing.” Suddenly, Malfoy’s eyes were ablaze and furiously staring at him. “It was purely self preservation. And I would prefer it if you didn’t go spreading that around the school, thank you very much.”

“Sure.”

They were silent for a second, before Harry shrugged uncomfortably and murmured, “No matter why you did it or whether you want me to talk about it or not, you really did save my life, though. Thank you.”

“Shut up.” There wasn’t much heat behind it, and Harry could have sworn that, between those blue locks, he could see a blush on Malfoy’s turnt down face. “I was doing just fine reading my book before you came bothering me.”

Harry sighed, getting back to his feet. “I’ll leave you to it. Just wanted to know how you were. I’m sorry.”

He rose to his feet, just nodding at the blue haired boy in lieu of a goodbye. He was halfway through the library before Malfoy's voice suddenly rang.

"Potter."

Harry turned back around, looking at the boy folded into that corner by the window, looking smaller than ever. "Yes?"

Malfoy hesitated. "Thank you. For asking how I am, I mean. And for not being weird about this whole Re-sorting thing. Everyone else keeps looking at me like they think I'm going to spontaneously combust or something. You don't."

Allowing himself to taking in Malfoy's Muggle appearance again, the hair, the clothing, the flower tattoo - which Harry now realised were narcissus flowers - and smiled gently. "I have spend the past few months trying to leave the past behind and living the most quiet life possible. I can only imagine certain others are try to do the same."

The wry smile that Malfoy gave in response was one that Harry knew by heart. Trying to escape the public eye was something that wore you down like that. Raising his hand in some sort of awkward wave, he turned and walked to the exit. At the entrance, he looked over his shoulder one last time, finding Malfoy looking after him. When their eyes met, the boy quickly looked away, focusing on the book in his hands.

He didn't look up again.

***

"I just think it's a little weird, don't you?"

They were having dinner in the Great Hall and Ron was looking over to where Malfoy, wearing a red and gold tie, was talking to his former Housemate Blaise Zabini.

Harry frowned. "What do you mean 'weird'?"

Ron shrugged. "That he is a Gryffindor now. I mean, Malfoy and brave are not two things I would put together."

"Being brave is not the only thing that makes someone a Gryffindor, Ron," Hermione admonished, being a bit more subtle about looking at Malfoy. "You know that very well."

"Yeah, but still. I mean, I don't see how he suddenly turned away from that Slytherin pride he was always preaching."

"Put yourself in his shoes for a second." She waved her fork through the air. "Can you imagine what it does to a person if a dangerous, volatile manic suddenly comes to live in your house, in your private space. If he threatens to kill you, your family to do his bidding. If your parents grovel at his feet and he takes everything you hold dear. I think that changes a person, hardens a person. He's seen the worst kind of cunning and ambition up close - and it probably reviled him." 

Both Harry and Ron stared at her, the former with a surprised smile and the latter in utter bafflement. Hermoine smiled, then added, "Also, don't forget that he refused to identify Harry at the Manor - I think that was a pretty brave thing to do."

For the first time since she'd started, Harry felt the need to cut in, "Actually, I talked to him and he'd rather have it that we kept that a bit of a secret."

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "You talked to him? When?"

"In the library the other day."

_ "Why?" _

"Ron!" Hermione sounded rather disappointed. Harry just shrugged.

"I believe we're past that whole rivals thing, don't you?"

Ron gave a matching shrug. "So do I, I just didn't think that you two could have a chat without hexing each other."

Nodding in response, Harry sighed. "A year ago we couldn't have. But I think he really has changed. He seems rather… calm now, don't you think? And I suppose that he just wants to forgive and forget like any of us, a quiet, normal life, without constantly being chased down. And I can't blame him for that." 

"Nah, I suppose you're right," Ron said, reaching for a piece of fried chicken. He glanced sideways to where Malfoy now stood alone, then let out a groan as he looked back at Harry. "Bloody hell, you think he's attractive, don't you?"

Harry smiled smugly. "Maybe just a little."

Ron tilted his head backwards to the enchanted ceiling, eyes rolling up to the magical sky. "Oh boy."

Grinning, Harry looked sideways to find Malfoy watching them with wide eyes, clearly to some degree aware that they were talking about him. Trying to reassure the blue haired guy that it wasn't anything bad, he sent him a kind smile and, to his own surprise, winked. 

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up. Shaking his head in what seemed to be amusement, he mimicked Harry's awkward wave from a few days prior and turned to where Zabini and Parkinson were waiting for him by the entrance.

Looking back to his friends, he was met with a pair of surprised stares. Then, Ron sighed.

"Like I said; oh boy."

***

There was a tower on the south side of the castle where no one ever came.

Upon arrival at Hogwarts for his eight year, Harry had started searching for a place where he could truly be alone for a few hours on end, a place he could go where he couldn't be found. He'd studied the Maurauder's Map for a while until he realised that there was a tower where no one ever seemed to venture - not even Filch.

It was some kind of forgotten, outdated classroom, probably once intended for some type of astronomy classes, with a roof that could be magically opened if one wanted to see the sky. 

It was perfect.

Over the course of the weeks, he'd brought some stuff to the room, just a few chairs, a blanket, things like that, to make it a little more like a place that was truly his.

He generally just used it as a place to escape to when all the attention got too much. Despite McGonagall's warned, there were times where people literally ganged up on him, asking for an autograph or other favours. That, and Romilda Vane who literally just wouldn't stop hounding him. Seriously, the girl was obsessed or something.

Today, his escape to the tower was no different than that day at library. He hadn’t been paying attention when he strolled out into the courtyard, only to have at least ten first-years surrounding him within seconds. He’d thought that the novelty of him being at Hogwarts would wear off over the past month but clearly it hadn’t. And honestly, he could even blame these little eleven year old’s, with their hopeful faces and smiles.

He was about to make up a really bad excuse and make a run for it when a loud roar sounded and something blocked out the sun for a second. Taking the opportunity as the kids looked up to watch the dragon in the sky, Harry pulled the invisibility cloak from his back and faded from their view. He didn’t waste any time lingering around, just continuing on his way to the tower. Behind him, the kids all started yelling in confusion as they noticed he was gone and he smiled.

He hurried into the tower, slamming the door shut with a loud noise. Dropping the cloak to the for, he let himself fall down in one of the chairs with a deep sigh. You’d think that living in the public eye would prepare him at this but honestly, he still was as shit at public attention as ever. It was only as he looked up from his hands that he realised he wasn’t alone.

The sky- door was open, the sun shining in, and on the floor, dozing in the sunlight, was the dragon. 

It really was tiny - at least for dragon standard. It’s body was ten, maybe twelve feet long and it’s scales reflected an infinite dark blue colour. It’s chest rose steadily up and down, tail twitching like it was dreaming.

“Bloody hell.”

It was out of Harry’s mouth before he could stop it, and as the dragons big eyes flew open, he instantly regretted it. Gaze zeroing in on Harry, the creature jumped, its nails scraping over the stone floor. Wings flared, ready to take off, and Harry rose to his feet, hands in the air defensively, shaking his head. “Hey, hey. Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Honestly, he didn’t even know if the creature could understand what he was saying - probably not - but he kept talking anyway. It seemed to calm down a little by his voice. “Look, I didn’t even know you were here. I just came here for some alone time and I guess you did too, so why don’t we just… share?”

The dragon settled back on the floor, head on its front paws, watching him with big, alert eyes as Harry sat back down in his chair. They were a deep violet colour, like its scales but a little lighter, and as big as dinner plates. In fact, its head was so big that Harry didn’t think he could fit his arms around it if he tried. 

Aware of the eyes on him, Harry reached into his back and drew out his transfigurations book and writing material, settling in to write his essay. The dragon, still watching him, huffed, tail curling in on its side and spread its wings again to warm them in the sunlight. 

The longer Harry sat there working on his essay, the more the dragon seemed to relax. He was still watchful of whenever Harry made any significant movement, but other than that, he seemed to be comfortable enough to doze away. 

It was odd, having a comfortable silence with a dragon, but it by far wasn’t the weirdest thing Harry had ever done. If anything, people - or creatures, so it seemed - wanting a bit of peace and quiet seemed to become a trend, and Harry didn’t mind respecting that. He just wrote his essay in silence, just like he would have done hadn’t the dragon been there, only occasionally glancing up at the sleeping creature. 

It was when the sun finally slipped below the edge of the sky-door that Harry rose to feet to grab his wand and make some light so he could write on. The dragon looked up as he stood, but didn’t seem to respond otherwise. When Harry turned his back on it, there was a loud whooshing sound, and when he looked back, the dragon was gone. 

He stared at the empty spot in surprised, shock that the tiny dragon had been able to move so fast. Looking up, he saw that the sky-door had closed after it by itself and he lightly shook his head at the sheer oddity of the situation. Only he could manage to just stumble upon the elusive dragon everyone had been looking for the past month. 

Letting out a soft laugh, he decided to just go back for the night. He packed his things and hoisted his bag on his shoulder, just once looking back to the empty spot where the dragon had lain before leaving the room with a smile on his face.

***

He was sitting in the common room, admiring a big blow out between a couple on the other side of the room, when there was suddenly a voice behind him, “I heard what you said about me to your friends the other day.”

Harry tilted his head back over the back of the couch to find Draco Malfoy standing behind him. Unable to help it, he smiled a little. “Hmm, did you now? How much did you hear?”

“All of it.” Malfoy grinned, hopping over the edge of the couch and settling on the pillows next to him. Some tiny voice in the back of Harry’s mind was telling him that it really shouldn’t be this easy between them, but somehow it was. Looking at him with amused eyes, Malfoy tilted his head. “So you think I’m attractive, huh?”

The surprised laugh that escaped Harry stood in bright contrast against the arguing couple in front of them. “You heard all of what I said and  _ that _ is what you think is most important?” He felt oddly comfortable in this new banter, stretching his arms above his head.

Malfoy shrugged. “Well, it is what strokes my ego most, no? Imagine what I could do with this information. Can you see the deadlines? ‘The saviour of the Wizarding World hot for a blue haired Death Eater  _ boy’.”  _ Though his words rang true, his voice was teasing, and Harry was pretty sure he didn’t mean it. Malfoy shrugged. “Still, I think it was nice of you to say all the other stuff too. Same goes for Granger.”

“I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear that,” Harry replied, a little hesitant of how to respond. “As am I.”

Luckily, Malfoy dissolved any tension by jerking his chin to the fighting couple. “What is their deal?”

Harry looked over to where the Ravenclaw boy was now launching into a rant towards his Hufflepuf girlfriend. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know. He’s been going at it for thirty minutes now and it’s been about the most useless of things. I’m really not sure what she did wrong and neither is she, by the looks of it.”

“Pour girl,” Malfoy muttered, looking at the yellow and black beanie in her hand. “She should have known better though, dating a Ravenclaw. They tend to be a little too overbearing for the niceness of Hufflepufs, or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh, no no no, watch this,” Harry argued. “See that look in her eyes? I bet she’s gonna put him in his place.”

Right at that moment, the girl rose her hand, effectively cutting the boyfriend short. As he looked at her in confusion, she took a step closer to him and said, quietly but without a single hesitation, “Jason, I am so done with your bullshit. Decide whether you love me or not. If you don’t, that’s fine but then we’re done. But if you do, then ask yourself what the bloody hell you’re doing trying to push me away.”

She turned on her heels and walked out of the room, leaving the boy frozen on his feet. He opened his a few times, then launched into a sprint after her. "Marcy. Marcy, wait!"

Malfoy let out a surprised laugh. "That was brutal."

Harry smiled. "Hey, at least she stood up for herself."

"Very true."

For a moment, Harry didn't know what to say. The silence between them was comfortable enough that he didn't feel like he had to, but there was something in the back of his mind that urged him to say something. He wanted to get to know Malfoy better, wanted to find out who they were without a Dark Lord looking over their head. He just had to think of something to say.

"I heard you testified against your father at his trial?"

He instantly regretted it. It was literally the worst thing he could have said, starting about Malfoy's father who was now in Azkaban, partially thanks to his son testifying against him. Seriously, he probably just ruined any chance he had on friendship with Malfoy.

But to his surprise, Malfoy only narrowed his eyes slightly and replied, "I heard you testified in favour of my mother."

Harry shrugged, relieved he didn't seem to have pissed Malfoy off. "Well, the literally saved my life, so it was the least I could do."

"Yeah it was." Malfoy's tone had reverted back to teasing again. He pointed to a game on top of the fireplace. "Chess?"

"Sure," Harry nodded, a little surprised Malfoy wanted to spend more time with him. "Mind you, I really do suck at it. Ron always beats me."

Malfoy smiled smugly. "Well, let's make sure you'll beat him next time, shall we?"

***

When Harry woke, two days later, there was a familiar itch on his shoulder blades - something he had picked up after the war. 

Dark clouds were rolling outside, rain imminent and suddenly, he was hit with the urge to fly. Gathering his coat and shoving his feet in some shoes, he quickly threw some water on his face so he could wake up. Glad to have been able to snag a single person room and so didn't have to worry about the noise, he tossed his towel in the direction of his laundry bin and closed his door behind him.

The castle was still very quiet on the Saturday morning and the few ghosts and sleepy teachers that he did pass, he nodded a quiet good morning to.

Outside, the sky was grey with clouds, but in the far distance, Harry could see the sun break through them just a little, creating beautiful beams of sunlight that seemed to fall down to the earth. Smiling, he shook all of his limbs loose and took to the sky.

When he got back, several hours later, he was absolutely soaked. The downpour had started only twenty minutes in and he had tried to make a game out of chasing the sun. He contemplated going straight for the showers, but decided to pick up some fresh clothes from his dorm first.

In the common room it was a mess of people practising for the Charms exam, casting all kinds of spells at pillows and books. When he entered, Ron looked up and nudged Hermoine by his side. "Harry, mate, where have you been? And why are you all wet?"

Harry shrugged. "I woke up early so I decided to go fly for a but."

"In this weather?" Hermoine laughed. "Only you're crazy enough to do that."

Grinning, Harry waved a hand over himself.  _ "Tergeo."  _ The water and mud evaporated from his clothes, though his hair remained soaked, stuck to his forehead like a wet mop. 

Neville, sitting opposite to Ron and Hermoine, tilted his head at him. "Where is your broom though, mate? You didn't leave it on the pitch like you did last time, did you?"

"Oh." Harry looked down on his empty hands. "Nah, some house elves wanted to do maintenance on it, so who was I to say no? But thanks for asking, Nev. Now, I'm going to take a shower because I feel… wet."

"Sure," Neville smiled, adjusting the book in front of him. "Are you coming to join us here to study after?"

Shrugging, Harry shook his head. "I don't really have to study for it anymore, but maybe I'll just join you doing something else, yeah?"

"It's bloody unfair," he heard Ron complain as he walked towards the stairs to the dorms. "Doesn't have to study for anything."

He was right, it was unfair. In the aftermath of the war, he'd found that dying in that forest hadn't only given him that itch in his shoulders and the urge to the freedom of flying, but it have also given him this uncanny understanding of the way magic worked. In result, he barely had to study for anything and was, for the first time ever, acing all of his classes without any effort. And it wasn't like he really cared. He hadn't come back to Hogwarts for his studies, he'd come back for his friends and the sense of normalcy that the school provided. 

Going up the stairs, he practically ran into Malfoy, who was reading a book while descending the steps. Steadying himself on the blue haired boy's shoulders, he let out a surprised laugh. "Hey."

"Oh, sorry," Malfoy muttered, only to look up and let out a laugh of his own. "Sweet Merlin, Potter, you look like someone tried to drown you in the Great Lake."

"I felt like flying when I woke up this morning, so I did." 

"Ah, I know that feeling," Malfoy reached up to scratch behind his ear, the large sleeve of his sweater falling down to reveal the mess of flowers on his arm. 

Trying not to focus on either the very personal tattoo that was now showing or the tightness of Malfoy's Jean's- because bloody hell, those jeans were just  _ sinful  _ \- Harry nodded towards the novel in the other boy's free hand. "No charms for you then?"

Malfoy looked down to the Muggle fiction book he was holding, then smiled. "Ah nah, I'm good. You?"

Harry contemplated his course of action for a second, then pointed to the book. "May I?"

"Sure," Malfoy replied, frowning. Harry put the book on a step neither of them were standing on and waved his hand over it, muttering,  _ "Gemino duplicorus."  _ it was one of the spells they had to perform for the exam and when he tapped the book with a finger, it quivered and duplicated on itself. One of the duplicates hit his hand as it jumped up and split again. 

Malfoy, looking at the three books, made a low noise and said, "Wandless? That's really impressive." 

Harry grinned. "Don't tell anyone, but I actually don't really need my wand much more. I can practically do everything wandless."

"But you use your wand in class?" Malfoy frowned, pulling his own wand from his back pocket. It was the familiar hawthorn wand that Harry had sent back to him over summer and he smiled.

"I'm trying to keep up appearances. All hell will break loose if the press finds out that their number one source of news is capable of even more powerful magic than they thought."

For a second, he was afraid that Malfoy would see it as arrogance, like he was boasting his own magical capabilities, but the other boy just nodded. "Very understandable." He pointed his wand at the three books.  _ "Finira geminicate dissipado." _

With a small pop, two of the three books disappeared, leaving only the initial copy behind. Harry's eyebrows show up in surprise. For the exam, they didn't needed to be capable of reversing the charm yet. 

Malfoy, seeing his expression, smirked a little. "I fixed up a Vanishing Cabinet when I was sixteen. This is easy magic for me."

"Touche."

Tilting his head, Malfoy shrugged. "What are you doing right now?"

"Well," Harry motioned to his wet hair, "Considering someone told me it looks like I drowned in the Lake, I was going to shower. Why?"

Malfoy laughed, more relaxed than Harry had ever seen him. "After that, want to grab some food in the kitchen while all those losers here are studying?"

Looking over his shoulder at the studious atmosphere in the common room, Harry grinned again. "Hell yeah."

***

"So, what do you think about that dragon?"

Harry, peeling the skin from his orange, looked up at Malfoy and shrugged. "It seems friendly, doesn't it? I don't think it wants to do anyone harm." Malfoy seemed rather pleased with that answer and for a moment, Harry wondered if maybe the other boy had had a run in with the creature too. "Why?"

Malfoy shrugged. "It seems like everybody has something to say about it but I hadn't heard you talk about it yet."

Shrugging again, Harry's eyes slid to Malfoy's right forearm. He had his sleeves rolled up, probably so they wouldn't drag over the food, and the tattoo was on full display.

"Draco, can I ask you a rather personal question?"

Malfoy's head jerked up, staring at him with wide eyes. Harry flinched. "Sorry, if you don't want me to, I won't."

"No, it's not that." He shook his head. "It's… you called me Draco."

"Did I?" Harry frowned, feeling as surprised as the other boy looked. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Draco said, frowning a little. Then, as if he was trying it out, added, "... Harry."

Harry grimaced. "Oh, that sounds… weird."

"I know," Draco laughed, leaning back in his chair. "But not necessarily a bad weird." For a moment, the both stared at each other, equally surprised at the ease that was between them. Then, Draco folded his hands and said, "Now, what was it you wanted to ask me?"

"Right," Harry nodded, shaking his head to clear it a little. "Your tattoo, is it for your mum?"

Draco looked down at his exposed forearm, smiling a little. "So you noticed that, huh? It is, yeah. Couple months ago I decided that I couldn't just keep walking around with that horrible mark on my arm so I did something about it. Figured, why not cover it with something that reminds me of someone I love. I could have had it removed if I wanted to, but that felt like I would be trying to erase a piece of my history that I'm ashamed of and that is not person I want to be."

"I think it's sweet, that you used the flowers you mum is named after," Harry told him earnestly. "By the way, I never properly thanked her for saving my life, but I promise I will when I have the chance."

"She'd like that." Draco smiled, flicking a strand of blue hair out of his face. "Now, can we talk about something a bit more cheerful please?"

Harry thought for a second. "Why don't you tell me about all those books you read? It seems I never see you without one anymore."

"I don't know, I guess I just like the endless possibilities they have. It's like, because we practise magic, we can only envision it like we know it. But Muggles, they can think up so many different world, where magic works in all kinds of ways. I just like the idea of them."

"I can understand that," Harry muttered, a little intrigued. "What's your favourite?"

Draco launched into a story about kingdoms and royalty and magic and Harry couldn't help but listen to every word. And as he sat there, watching the blue haired boy speak so animatedly about a fictitious story, he couldn't help but realise he was falling for him.

And he didn't mind a single bit.

Later that evening, when he got to the old tower, the dragon was there again, lying on the magically heated floor. It opened its eyes when he entered, but closed them again when he saw who it was. It seemed that, after their previous encounter, the creature now trusted him enough to just sleep on in his presence.

Letting himself drop in one of the chairs, Harry turned the book that he'd just gotten from the library over in his hands. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was actually interested in the story or because Draco had been so excited about it, but he most certainly wanted to read it.

With a look at the dozing dragon a few feet away from him, he opened the to the first page and started to read.

***

It was only when he woke up that he realised he'd fallen asleep. To his surprise, there was a blanket covering his body, book neatly closed and put on the tea table and the dragon was gone.

***

Harry was painfully aware of the fact that he'd fallen so badly for Draco. 

He dreamt of blue hair and tattoos, he thought of the boy in the shower and talked about him with his friends. Ron was of the opinion that he had always had a thing for Draco, with what he called Harry's OCDD - Obsessive Compulsive Draco Disorder - phase in sixth year and all, and Hermoine just said that she wasn't surprised.

It didn't help that they spend quite a lot of time together, playing chess, talking about books or just reading in each other's company. One evening, they sat on the couch together, each with a book in their lap. Harry was moving his feet around restlessly, unable to keep his attention on the story. It wasn't that he didn't think it was interesting, on the contrary, he really liked it, but for some reason his concentration had been fleeting all evening. It possibly had something to do with the incredibly attractive boy beside him.

Draco, noticing his restlessness, poked him in the side. "Hey. What's up?"

"Can't concentrate," Harry replied, scratching the back of the book over with his nails. "I think I've started to read the same sentence fifteen times over now."

Smiling sympathetically, Draco held out a beckoning hand. "Come here."

It should be weird, the way he let himself be guided to lie down with his head in Draco's lap, a long slender hand carding through his hair. It should be weird, the way Draco replaced his own book with Harry's and started reading out loud with a soft, steady voice. It should be weird, the way Harry felt more and more relaxed by the second and how it felt like it was something they did all the time. 

But somehow it wasn't. Somehow it was perfectly normal and perfectly alright, this sudden and strange codependency they were developing. And to Harry, there wasn't much more that mattered right now than Draco's hand in his hair and the steady cadence of his voice.

You see, the story on itself was fantastic, about love and betrayal and a type of magic that was so similar and yet so different from theirs - but in Draco's voice, it was lifted to an entirely different level, and Harry honestly loved it more than anything in this world.

Several hours later, the book had been discarded and both Draco's hands were toying with Harry's hair. They had been silent for quite a while, just enjoying each other's company, until Draco murmured quietly, "Tell me something."

"How do you mean 'something'?"

The blue haired boy shrugged. "Tell me something nobody knows about you."

Grinning, Harry looked up at him through his lashes as he said teasingly, "Well, I'm gay."

Draco's grip momentarily tightened, yanking on his hair lightly. "I already knew that. Now tell me something real."

Harry hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should let the conversation get this dark. On the other hand, Draco had asked for it. He sighed. "I died."

_ "What?" _

"That night of the war. I didn't deflect the killing curse Voldemort cast, didn't survive it. I actually died."

The small light on the table was reflected brightly in the grey of Draco’s eyes, shimmering and alive. “How do you mean… died? That’s not... how?”

In order to properly explain what happened, Harry realised, he was going to have to tell the whole story. And so he did. 

He started at the beginning, explaining about Tom Riddle and his fascination with eternal life, then how this eventually lead to him creating six horcruxes. Then that fateful night came that his parents were killed and how that tore off another piece of Voldemort's soul, which fastened on Harry. He explained about the journey he went through with first Dumbledore and then Ron and Hermoine and how that had all accumulated on that fateful night in the Forbidden forest. When he was done, Draco stayed silent for a moment.

"So… you were there that night that-" He cut off, looking away.

"That night that Dumbledore died?" Harry filled in, remembering hiding as Death Eaters filed in, Draco failing to kill the headmaster and Snape doing it in his stead. "I was." Draco clearly wasn't very comfortable with this turn of the conversation, so he added, "Anything else you want to know?"

For a moment, as he could see the heavy expression slip into Draco’s eyes, Harry was afraid that he just completely said the wrong thing and turned Draco away from him forever. Then, Draco exhaled deeply as if he'd decided to let it go. Face clearing a little, his hands resumed their movements through Harry's hair. "Yes, actually. Because I always assumed you had some special power that allowed you to show up whenever something was going on. But since that clearly wasn't the case, how the hell did you keep finding me in Sixth year? I spend so much time trying to lose anyone who would follow me and then you'd just show up like if was the easiest thing in the world."

Harry let out a laugh, glad the conversation had turned to something a little lighter. "I have a map."

"A map?"

"Yeah, a map of Hogwarts. It was created by my father and his friends in their time here and it shows me where everybody is in the castle."

"Well, that's just not fair," Draco groaned. "Here I was, trying all these charms and tricks so no one would find me and mister Hotshot Potter here just as a cheat-code map."

Not in the slightest offended by the teasing nickname, Harry just shrugged. "I'll show it to you once we get up, huh? Then you can see in whose room Zabini is staying tonight."

"Talking about me, Potter?" Both Harry's and Draco's head shot up, surprised to find the door to the common room open and Blaise Zabini in the opening. He closed it behind him, then smirked. "Also, bold of you to assume that I actually  _ stay _ once we're done."

Grinning, Harry shrugged. "Never said anything about staying  _ the night _ , did I now?" The taller Slytherin walked over towards them and Harry, keeping with the trend of forgive and forget, said, "Blaise, was it?"

"Oh boy, first names?" Blaise made a theatre of looking surprised. "I guess our traitor here is really rubbing off on you."

"Screw you, Blaise," Draco piped up for the first time since his friend had entered. Harry frowned, looking up at Draco.

"Traitor?"

Rolling his eyes, Draco shrugged. "He's been calling me that ever since I switched to Gryffindor. Don't worry about it."

"Don't forget the part where you're suddenly best friends with our high almighty saviour," Blaise added with a wink. "That does add to the traitor status."

It was clear he was joking, but still Draco scowled. Harry frowned. "Well, in this common room, this late at night, there are no traitors and no saviours. There's just Harry and Draco."

Blaise laughed and so did Harry. As he looked up however, he found Draco looking between him and his friend with a slightly sour look. Nudging Draco's side with his head, he added, "Nonetheless, we are incredibly lucky to have him."

It sounded maybe, possibly, a little, terribly like a confession and was definitely way too on the nose, but the bright smile that Draco send him was too perfect to worry about it even a little.

***

"If I had heard myself this a year ago," Ron started slowly, "I would probably have drowned myself, but why don't you just kiss the bloke? Somehow, I don't think he'd mind." He paused, then groaned as he tipped his head backwards. "Merlin, I can't believe I just said that about you and  _ Malfoy, _ of all people."

Harry frowned. "Why would you say that?"

They were sitting at a table in a far corner of the library. Hermoine had wandered off to find a book for whatever she was researching and Harry had offhandedly mentioned something about the alcove by the window that Draco had been sitting at the first time they properly talked. Cue the conversation they were now having.

Shrugging, Ron rested his chin on the palm of his hand. "You're bloody gone for him, he is most certainly hot for you, I don't see the problem here. Look, it's not like I really like the guy, but even I have to admit that he's properly changed."

"But I don't even know if he's gay," Harry tossed his hands up in the air in frustration. "Or even into guys at all."

Ron's eyebrows shot up. "Mate, I know you can be a bit dense sometimes, but I didn't think you could be that dumb." When Harry's confused look remained, he groaned. "Harry, the boy has blue hair and wears jeans tighter than a spandex suit, for Merlin's sake. Not to mention the heart eyes he keeps making at you every time your back is turned."

"Are we talking about Draco?" Hermione's voice was gentle as she pulled back a chair at the table. "You know Harry, I really don't know why you don't tell him how you feel. He clearly feels the same way about you."

"That's what I was saying!" Ron grinned, his smile only growing wider when he received a proud look from his girlfriend. "So just go up to him and kiss his for what your worth."

Seeing Harry's panicking face, Hermoine laughed. "Well, I wouldn't go that far. Maybe just ask him out on a date?"

"I don't think I can," Harry whispered in response. 

"Mate, you're Harry Potter! If you can't ask out the person you like, then who can?"

Before Harry could ever response, Hermione was already swatting at Ron's arm. "Don't listen to him, Harry. Just think about it, yeah? I wouldn't advise you to do this if I didn't really think he was into you."

Harry didn't reply. 

For a while, they just sat there with the three of them, Hermione searching through several books to find what she was looking for and Ron and Harry playing some chess with a set that Ron had brought along in shrunken form. Even after his practises with Draco, Harry still wasn't  _ good,  _ but Ron certainly had to put in a bit more effort to win this time around.

Their game was winding down when suddenly, Hermoine gasped. "That's it!"

"What is?" Ron frowned.

"The dragon," she smiled excitedly. "It's not a dragon at all. It's an animagus. I kept wondering why the ministry and the school stopped researching the creature but now I get it. It's a person."

Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place in Harry's mind. The abandoned tower, the blanket covering him when he woke up - he understood now.

Chair scraping over the ground, he jumped up, nearly knocking over the chest set in the process. "Sorry. I, er, I've got to go." He scrambled for the map in his bag, fingers nearly shaking too much to find it.

Ron was shaking his head. "What? Why?"

"I can't say, sorry." He was already on his way out of the library, feet pushing fast. "See you later."

Out of the door and around the corner, he opened the map and said the necessary words. Staring at the dot that slowly moved about the room, he exhaled a shaky breath and took off running towards the abandoned tower.

***

The dragon was there when he entered, barely looking up or surprised by his presence. For a moment, Harry halted with his back against the door, staring at the creature in disbelief of what he'd discovered. Then, he set across the room with brisk steps.

"Draco?" To his credit, the dragon didn't even startle, just looked up at the sound of his voice. When he can close, however, he could see the tension in the creature's body. "Draco, I know it's you."

He got closer, the dragon staring at him with wide blue eyes. "Remember that map I told you about? You're on it, Draco, I know it's you."

There was a second where they just stared at each other, and then there was a soft pop, the dragon in front of him shrinking and folding into itself until only a frazzled blue haired boy remained. 

Grey eyes wide, Draco looked up at Harry in shock. "How did you find out?"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione figured out the dragon was an animagus and I just… it made sense, you know?" Sitting on the floor with his legs pulled up like he was, Draco seemed really small. Sinking on his knees beside the boy, Harry frowned. “But why didn’t you tell me? I thought… I thought you trusted me.” He couldn’t help but sound a little hurt. 

“I do, I do,” Draco was quick to reassure. “It’s just that I didn’t even tell my friends, and you met me in my animagus form before we even were on speaking terms, and I didn’t want you to think that I, I don’t know, manipulated you or something.”

“Of course I don’t,” Harry shook his head, reaching out to lay a hand on Draco’s shoulders. “But how did you…”

“Become a bloody dragon?” Draco laughed. Harry was glad to see him relax a little. It was sad to realise this thing between them was so fragile that every little thing had him worried about the state between them. “It was during the period between the end of the war and my pardon-approval. With my parents both incarcerated and all the press on my neck because I was the only Death Eater currently out and about, I hid inside my house, which also didn’t hold the best memories. With nothing else left to do, I decided to do the animagus process. Honestly, I was hoping to become something small, so I could get out of situations if they ever got too tight, but instead…” He spread his arms, and Harry could just imagine the echo of large wings behind him. “Instead I became a dragon.”

“Don’t worry though, I am registered - but they classified it because of my history and the way people behaved towards me. I had to tell the headmistress also, and she gave me access to this tower so I’d have a place to go to and fly for when the itch to change got too big.” Looking Harry in the eye, he laughed again. “So imagine my surprise when you suddenly showed up here. Anyway, they set up this whole faux-investigation for a while to make it seem like a dragon just showed up, but they knew it was me all along.”

Harry looked up to the sky roof, imagining McGonagall thinking of this place and realising it was the perfect place for an animagus dragon. The urge to change, to fly, he knew all about it, but he by himself of course was a little more inconspicuous than a whole ass dragon. 

When he looked back down, something inside him stirred. With the sky-door open, the warm autumn sun fell in directly onto Draco’s head, presenting Harry with a mess blue hair that almost seemed to glow, soft sweaters and tattoos and grey, grey, grey eyes that seemed all but too bright. Choking on his own breath, Harry reached out and curled a hand around Draco’s jaw. Unable to help himself, he whispered, “Draco, can I kiss you?”

The other boy laughed again, this time warmed and more affectionate. He leaned his face closer and whispered back, “Well, it only took you five weeks to ask me, so I’m not sure.” For a moment, Harry was confused, but then Draco took matters into his own hands and kissed him soundly.

It had been a few months since Harry had kissed someone, but he didn’t remember it to be like this, so warm and easy and just… right. Maybe it was because he’d never kissed a guy before or maybe it was just Draco. A year prior, he wouldn’t have been able to even imagine sitting on the floor of an abandoned tower, kissing a blue haired Draco Malfoy, but here he was, and it was perfect.

When he pulled back, Draco opened his eyes and smirked. “I’m beginning to think that you just have a think for bright hair though. First the Weasley girl, now me. Are you gonna go for you best friend next?”

Laughing, Harry flipped him the bird the the hand that was not currently curved around Draco’s neck. “You are a prat, do you know that?”

Grinning, Draco traced the curve of Harry’s bottom lip with his index finger. “I’m your prat though.”

“That depends,” Harry whispered, heart loudly beating in his ears. “Do you want to be?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“Well, I guess you are my prat then.” Using the hand still hooked behind Draco’s hand, he pulled the boy in again, slotting their lips together. Waving his free hand about, the sofa moved closer, the skin on skin contact never breaking as they settled onto it together.

They didn’t leave the room for a long, long time.

*** 

Now that they’d started, it was hard to keep their hands off each other - and not even always in a filthy way. Their strangely co-dependent closeness they’d developed echoed through in the way their were in this relationship and neither of them seemed to mind.

Ron and Hermoine had connected dots between Harry’s abrupt disappearance and the fact that he came back with his hand clasped in Draco’s and assumed that he’d left simply to confess his feelings. It said a lot that Harry wasn’t even surprised that, upon hearing a slightly altered version of what had happened - sans Draco’s animagus-ness and all - Ron had turned to Hermione and claimed five galleons from her. Apparently, after he’d left, they’d made a bet to whose advice he would listen to.

It wasn’t like Draco’s friends were any better though. Blaise, when hearing that it was Harry and not Draco who had made the first move, had instantly stormed off to claim his money from Pansy Parkinson.

What was surprising, however, was the amount of bet that the other eight years’ had seemingly made on them.

“I didn’t think we were  _ that _ obvious,” Harry told Draco a few nights later, playing with a the hem of the other boy’s shirt as the other laid against his chest. “I think we might have been literally the only ones who didn’t notice.”

“Honestly,” Draco replied, “I thought you were into Blaise for a minute.”

_ “Blaise?”  _ Harry couldn’t help but be surprised. He hadn’t even ever entertained the idea. “Why would you think that?”

“Just the way you were laughing with him a week or so back. I thought you maybe liked him or something.”

Harry laughed. “Well, to be fair, I really thought you were straight for a while, so I think we’re even.”

“Excuse me?” Draco sputtered out a laugh. “Have you seen me? I haven’t been straight a single day in my life.”

“Yeah, Ron said I was being daft too.”

Draco looked up, eyes sparkling in reflection of the fire. “Your friend sounds like a smart man. I guess I’d just have to flee from your arms and into his.”

Harry’s arms tightened unconsciously a little around Draco’s body, but he smiled nonetheless. “You couldn’t run fast enough.”

“Hello,” Draco laughed, turning in Harry’s arms so they were face to face. “I am a dragon, remember. I could just fly away and you would never keep up with me.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Draco frowned.

“Nothing,” Harry shook his head quickly. “Just that you can’t get rid of me that easy.” Draco seemed to believe the explanation and, trying to get rid of the topic, added, “So tell me something.”

He could see the realisation set in on Draco’s face as he remembered the conversation three weeks prior, the other beginning to grin as he said, “Merlin, you’re so cheesy.”

Harry smiled. “You know I am.” 

The nice thing was that nothing big had changed between them. There was still playing chess and reading books and having conversations until late at night, ranging from all kinds of topics. There still was the teasing and pushing at each other, and the ability to talk about bad things that had happened during the war. What was different now, though, was that neither of them hesitated anymore before plopping in the other’s lap, scooting close next to them for dinner. Harry wasn’t afraid to ask Draco to read him the story and Draco wasn’t shy with admitting he enjoyed cuddling.

And for the first time in a long time, Harry actually felt really happy. 

He’d known he was gay for a while now - nothing with girls had ever seemed really right, not even with Ginny. But he could never have imagined that being with someone could be like this, could feel like this. Like nothing had ever been more right in the world. 

He just hoped he could keep it that way.

***

His secret accidentally got out a week later. 

Since they were both consenting adults and both had a dorm room to themselves, they were taking turns in which bedroom they’d sleep at night. That night, he’d had a dream where he was soaring through the sky, as free as bird, and suddenly then dropped to the ground like he was made of stone.

He woke up with a jolt. Blinking, he stretched out, unfolding his legs from the bed and yawning widely. He only noticed that the shower had been running when it was turned off and a big cloud of steam blossomed from the half open door. He rubbed his eyes, smiling as Draco emerged a minute or two later, wearing sweatpants and a long sleeved sweater.

“Good morning.”

Draco stilled as he looked up, a strange look appearing on his face. “Uhm… morning.”

“Is something wrong?” Harry frowned at the unusual response, and even more when Draco’s eyes focused on something behind him.

“Harry…” 

It was that tone, that inflection of voice, combined with a certain heaviness on his back that warned him about what was it was that was happening and he wearily closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Bloody hell, my wings are showing, aren’t they?”

Draco nodded slowly, a confused expression on his face. 

Harry squeezed his eyes shut again, tipping his head backwards. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He cast a look over his shoulder, folding the solid forms back to where they belonged. It had probably been the dream that triggered it, he realised. Stupid to think he could have kept it from Draco. “Why… uhm, why don’t you, like, sit down?”

Slowly shaking his head, Draco lifted his chin. “No. I think I’ll remain right here, thank you very much. Now please tell me what the hell is going on. ”

It was the coldest Draco had been with him all year, colder than the first time they had spoked in the library, and the worst part was that Harry completely understood. After all, he had kept this from his boyfriend for  _ months _ . He exhaled deeply and slowly unfolded his wings again, deciding that the best way to approach this was head on. There was no point turning about the facts now. “I know that you probably think I’m an asshole right now, especially because you told me your secret and I didn’t tell you mine, and to be honest, you’re completely right. The truth is. I barely know how to deal with this myself, and just didn’t know how to tell you.” He could feel Draco’s gaze shift from his face to the heavy wings that curved around his shoulders, gliding past the shimmering feathers and strong muscles. And if it’s any consolation, Ron doesn’t know either.”

There. It was barely noticeable, but, as used to Draco as he was, he could see the taller boy’s shoulders lower just the slightest bit. “But Hermoine does?” To Harry’s relief, he didn’t seem as angry as he had expected Draco to be. The other boy almost seemed… calm.

“What do you think?”

“Of course, she figured it out herself. I shouldn’t even be surprised. Honestly, I should stop being surprised about anything when it comes to you.” Slowly, some kind of analytical glint appeared in Draco’s eyes, and while Harry felt a bit uncomfortable under it, it was better than that cold distanced look. “Just… what is it that you are exactly?” 

Harry, knowing of Draco’s vast knowledge of strange information, already braced himself for the reaction. “What I am… it’s called a Seraphim.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “An angel?” Voice pitched higher than Harry had ever heard him, the blue haired boy flailed his arms about in frustration. “Being the Saviour of the Wizarding World wasn’t enough for Harry Potter, you had to be a bloody angel too?” 

“No,” Harry slowly shook his head, placing a hand on the other boy’s arm to calm him down a. “I’m not an angel. Seraphim are technically long removed descendants of angels, but even those weren’t what people believed them to be. They had more magic than you and I even could imagine, but they all died out thousands of years of years ago, incapable of producing heirs. They did, however, occasionally pair off with humans, but while they were strong magical creatures, their genetics weren’t and a recessive gene was created. Passed down through generations, it rarely happened that there was a child that had only the recessive gene, and even then, it remained dormant, waiting until some extreme conditions come along that activated it. Something as extreme as dying, in my case.” The flabbergasted expression on Draco’s face was exactly how he’d felt when he first heard about his condition, unable to believe it.

“It started only a few weeks after the battle here at Hogwarts. I would get this terrible itch in my shoulders and the urge to fly. So one night, I set out with my broom and went for a fly when suddenly, the itch in my back got so mad I literally fell of my broom. That was the first time the wings manifested. It hurt like hell, and they disappeared as soon as I hit the ground.

“After that, slowly my perception of the world began to change. I understood magic like I never had before and I stopped needing my wand for doing magic. I went to see a private Medi-wizard for the itch and he found out that I was a Seraphim. I explained it to McGonagall before I got here and Hermoine figured it out herself, so that makes you only the fourth person that knows, I suppose.”

There was a beat of silence with Draco just staring at him, then his hand shot out and smacked him hard across the chest. “You’re a bloody asshole, you know that.”

Harry sighed. “I know, I’m sorry, I just-”

“We could have been flying out together weeks ago!”

Eyebrows shooting up, Harry found Draco sitting down on the edge of his bed with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Here I am, trying to come up with all these way to get strong enough so I can let you tag along when I go out for a fly, and then I find out you have been hiding these bloody marvelous wings from me. Asshole, really.”

And Harry, Harry knew that look. It had developed over the past week and usually went prior to any time they wound up in bed together. He smirked, lifting the wings a little higher and stretching them out a bit. “So I take it you like them, huh?”

Leaning in, Draco grinned. “You bet your ass I do.”

They didn’t leave that room for a while either.

***

Having Draco know his secret lifted a huge weight of his shoulders.

The blue haired boy had been right, flying together was just bloody brilliant. Draco’s dragon wings were way bigger, and so he could catch more wind with them, but Harry’s moved faster, so they were able to bring their old Seeker matches up to a whole new level when it came to racing each other.

They had a slight awkward moment in the following month however, when they had snuck off into an empty classroom after Transfigurations class.

Hands pulling and lips colliding, they’d fallen into each other, and it was all Draco’s fault really. The blue haired boy had been teasing Harry all day, dropping little comments here and there, brushing his hand places ‘accidentally’, until Harry hadn’t been able to take it anymore and pulled him aside after class.

He knew it was exactly what Draco had wanted. His boyfriend loved the thrill of doing inappropriate things while people were right outside, in places that they shouldn’t, and it wasn’t like Harry really minded it, if he was honest, so he didn’t think twice about giving in.

In hindsight, he wished he had. 

Harry had a hand full of blue hair and his other on Draco’s bum, Draco’s hands reaching for the button of Harry’s jeans, when the door to the room suddenly opened. Hurriedly jumping apart, there was barely three feet between them when Headmistress McGonagall walked right in.

She took one look at both their dishevelled appearances - flushed faces, hair messy and clothing askew - and shook her head. “I can’t believe how disappointed I am in you boys. I knew something was up when I followed you here. Honestly, I thought the last year had been enough to make you two stop fighting with each other, especially with how much you have in common, but I guess not.”

Mouth falling open in shock, Harry shared a surprised and horrified looked with Draco before sputtering out, “Er, we, uhm, weren’t  _ fighting _ , professor.”

McGonagall frowned but then, after looking them over once more, raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh.  _ Oh, _ I see.” She paused, and then suddenly smiled. “Well, in that case, I guess I owe Madame Hooch some money.” She turned to the door slowly, reaching for the doorknob. “Ten points from Gryffindor for inappropriate conduct, boys. Do not let me catch you again. You have bedrooms for that.” And with a slight flourish of her robed, the door slammed shut behind her.

For a moment, both Draco and Harry stared at each other in utter shock, unable to really comprehend what just had happened. Then, Draco broke out in laughter. “Did the teachers seriously bet on us too?”

“I guess so,” Harry joined in laughing, seeking a little stability against the desk behind him. “Merlin that was awkward.”

“Could have been worse though,” Draco mused. “Imagine if it had been Slughorn who walked in.”

Feeling a shiver down his spine, Harry shook his head. “I don’t even want to think about that.” He stretched a hand out towards his boyfriend. “Come here?”

Laughing, Draco took the hand extended. “Seriously, you still want to do this after what just happened?”

Harry shrugged. “Look at it like this, she’s definitely not coming back to this room any time soon.”

Draco smirked. “I do like the way you think.”

***

It was promising to become a beautiful morning, the first one of the new year. They were standing on the roof of the abandoned tower, watching the sun as it climbed up the sky and turned the horizon in a world of pink and purple and orange.

Harry had his arms around Draco’s waist, nose nuzzling the hair in the nape of Draco’s nek, just where it slowly was beginning to grow blonde again.

“Tell me something,” Draco whispered quietly.

Harry smiled, hands turning Draco around by the waist. Looking at that expecting face and grey eyes, he felt entirely unapologetic and unashamed to whisper, 

“I love you.”

And Draco’s answering grin was brighter than any sunrise could ever be.

  
  
  



End file.
